


you drew scars around my scars

by currahees



Category: The Pacific (TV)
Genre: M/M, fair warning this is a bit sad, sledgefu week 2020 lets go babyyyy, sorry loves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-27
Updated: 2020-07-27
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:08:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25547977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/currahees/pseuds/currahees
Summary: sledgefu week, 01: letters.ORthe one where sledge gets an unexpected letter in his mailbox.
Relationships: Merriell "Snafu" Shelton/Eugene Sledge
Comments: 19
Kudos: 18
Collections: Sledgefu Week 2020





	you drew scars around my scars

**Author's Note:**

> proofreading??? couldn't be me.  
> come find me on tumblr, my user is speirtons!  
> dedicated to tom, my fellow loser <3

When the first letter arrives, Sledge isn’t really sure what to do. He recognises the handwriting on the envelope and his heart catches in his throat for a second. He tells himself that it can’t be Snafu, his Snaf left him behind on the train years ago. But as he shakily rips open the envelope, he knows it’s him. There’s no mistaking the angry cursive that takes up almost three whole pages. And for a few minutes, all he can feel is happiness. He reads about how Snafu got a new dog, moved out of the family home and got a job. The letters end with _‘yours, forever, Snafu’_ and Sledge thinks those are the best words in the entire English Language.

The letters carry on for a few months, both men getting used to each others lives again. Sledge writes a letter almost every day and although Snafu’s aren’t as frequent, they’re just as consistent. Every Tuesday morning a crumpled letter is dropped through their door and Sledge has almost memorised the sound it makes as it lands on the hardwood floor.

He wakes up and smiles to himself. It was Tuesday morning, there’d be a new letter making its way to him. Wasting no time in getting up, Sledge runs a toothbrush across his teeth and changes into light clothes, it was only nine am but the Alabama heat was already getting to him. Hopping down the stairs, he grabs the book he was reading the other day off the table in the hall and sits in the front room. He’d be able to hear the postman from here, it was only a matter of time before he had a new letter.

Twenty minutes later and there’s the unmistakable sound of letters dropping onto the floor. Hastily shoving a bookmark into his book, Sledge runs to the door.

“C’mon,” he mumbles to himself, shifting through the letters and looking for that unmistakable handwriting. He looks through the pile twice, three times, before realising there isn’t a letter there for him.

Furrowing his brows, he sets the pile of mail on the table near the door and pulls the door open. He spots their usual mailman walking down the drive to his bike.

“Hey, Fred!” Sledge calls, lightly jogging to catch up with him. “Is there a letter for me? Usually comes in a light brown envelope, every Tuesday?”

Fred shakes his head, “Sorry, Gene. Nothing today.” He turns and carries on walking to his bike.

Sledge stands there for a minute, confused. Maybe Snafu mailed the letter a day late, or maybe he hadn’t written one this week. He tries not to let his mind wander to the worst possibility, but that was hard. There had been consistent letters for almost three months, why would they just stop?

The rest of the morning is spent pacing back and forth in the garden, Sledge only stopping for lunch. There had to be a reason why there was no letter today, it wasn’t like Snafu to stop with no explanation. Although this is what happened on the train, all those years ago. Maybe he got bored again and gave up.

Sledge’s never ending train of thought abruptly came to a halt when there was the sound of a car coming up the drive. Sledge quickly looked back to the house, the family car was still sat in front of the garage and his father usually finished work long after dark. Maybe it was someone lost looking for directions or one of his mother’s friends.

The car came to a stop a few feet from Sledge, clearly on its last legs. The bumper was dented and the paint job was beyond repair. Sunlight bounced off the window, shielding Sledge’s view on who was sat in the drivers seat. But as soon as the door opens, there’s no mistaking who it was.

“Snaf?” Sledge asks in disbelief.

Snafu grins at him, letting out a small laugh. “Did ya miss me, Sledgehamma’?”

Sledge moves towards him, pulling the shorter man into a bone crushing hug. He smelt like salt and sweat and Sledge is overwhelmed with flashbacks of the beaches, the explosions and the screams. But then he feels Snafu hold him tighter and that all vanishes the memories change. He thinks of him and Snafu stargazing under the island heat, sharing their last cigarettes with each other and sharing stolen moments when no one else was around.

“Missed you so much,” Sledge murmurs, not wanting to let go.

-

The letters carry on after Snafu visits. Sledge makes a promise to come and visit him before the summers over and they agree on late August, Sledge already made arrangements to borrow the family car.

It’s another Tuesday morning and he’s eating breakfast when he hears the familiar _clunk_ of letters landing on the floor. Shifting through the letters, he spots his name on one but it isn’t in Snafu’s cursive. Curious, he rips it open before searching through the rest of the mail.

Sledge drops the letters.

Then drops to the floor.

He rereads the letter four, five times to make sure he wasn’t misreading. But there was no mistake in what was printed in big, bold, typewriter letters.

 **MERRIEL ALLESANDRO** **SHELTON DEAD AFTER TRAGIC ACCIDENT - FUNERAL DETAILS TO FOLLOW.**

Sledge can’t breathe, he can’t think, his entire world feels off balance. The rest of the letter details the accident, apparently he was working under a car at work when it fell on him. There was nothing anyone could do, he was beyond saving.

-

Weeks later, after Sledge returns home from the funeral, he finds a letter stuck under the table by the door. Pulling it out, the handwriting on the front is unmissable. It’s from Snafu, dated three days before his death. Sledge reads through the letter, his feet no longing able to hold him up. The last few lines of knock the breath out of Sledge.

_‘I was thinking, what if you moved in with me? Now hear me out, I know you live in your fancy house with your fancy things, but I think we could make it work? That way we wouldn’t have to send letters to each other, think of all the tree’s we’d be saving. I’m tired of having you half of the time, I want you here. All the time.  
_

_Yours, forever. Snafu.’_


End file.
